


Of Magic Born

by scifigeek14



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Art, Fanart, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Music, Recreational Drug Use, Reincarnation, Smoking, Tattoos, slightly ooc due to time alone and rebirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigeek14/pseuds/scifigeek14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Presenting the first full length album of Merlin Emrys,"Of Magic Born", and the story of how he found his other half again after he’d long since given up hope. </p><p>An AU reincarnation fic where Merlin hasn’t aged into an old man like we see at the end of season 5 and Arthur is reborn, growing up with two sets of memories. Arthur's POV. Merlin is a musician and Arthur is an artist so there will be art and musical links in this fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Sexy but not explicit Merthur scenes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin or the actors. I also don’t own the songs used in this story. I did make the art, but all photos used for my edits were originally found on google images.

The flashbacks started when I was twelve. Of course, at the time I didn’t know they were flashbacks. They were just strangely vivid dreams in which I was a few years older and ran around in chainmail on the back of a horse. It was these flashbacks that were part of what caused me to gravitate towards horseback riding and fencing at this age. But by the time I was in Uni studying Art, I was 98% sure that these dreams were telling me that I was the reincarnation of King Arthur from Camelot. I didn’t tell my father that, of course. Even though dad seemed to be the same as my previous self’s father - our last name was even close to Pendragon, being Pendreigh- I knew that if I tried to convince him that he was once King Uther of Camelot, father would have me committed.  But despite this strange reincarnation, I was generally pretty happy with my current life. Father gave me everything I wanted growing up, including a horse and paying for my education, even if he thought Art was a waste of time. I didn’t have too many friends, per se, due to living a rather sheltered life. But there is Morgan, my sister, who also featured heavily in my dreams. I didn’t dare tell her that she was once an evil sorceress hell bent on destroying me. She didn’t need any ideas about how else to torture me on family vacations.

There were some things missing though. I’d always felt a longing for my knights, the knights that in this life I’d never known. I missed that camaraderie. I wondered if I would have gotten that if I’d been a footballer instead of a fencer and a painter. I missed Guinevere, my former Queen. Though in this lifetime I wasn’t as interested in a Queen (not that’d I’d tell my father that either). He’d blow a gasket. There was more than that though, and I knew what it was. He was my previous self’s best friend. He was Merlin. And not the old man with a long white beard that one sees in lore and Halloween costumes. He was tall and lean, some would say skinny, and he had dark hair and shocking blue eyes and an incredibly goofy smile. He was kind of beautiful, in an artsy avant-garde model kind of way. The kind of beauty that deserved black and white photography or the softest charcoal. It was something that I’d never really paid much attention to in my previous life time. Now I had notebooks full of sketches of him. I could also remember the shock that had come from learning he had Magic. It wasn’t as shocking now, obviously, because I’d had grown up knowing Merlin was a wizard. They’d gotten that right in the stories, even if they’d gotten most of everything else wrong. The lack of Merlin as a sounding board for my every arrant thought and to act as my moral compass left the feeling of a gaping hole in my chest.

Camelot was the main subject of most of my paintings and drawings. The series of paintings I’d used to get into the Royal Academy of Arts was of Camelot: the parapets, the council meeting, the round table, the knights on horseback with their red cloaks billowing in the wind, Guinevere on her throne with her crown glittering, and even a portrait of Merlin with his eyes glowing gold. I wondering how much Merlin would tease me for going to the “Royal” Academy.  He’s probably say “once a spoiled royal prat, always a spoiled royal prat”.  I wondered about Merlin everyday, if Merlin had been brought back too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:
> 
> http://www.rca.ac.uk/schools/school-of-fine-art/painting/ma-description/ = Royal Academy of Arts
> 
> http://38.media.tumblr.com/3b2fefe810276b041a045ec4a5e8791a/tumblr_mv31i9iW2L1qbg96do1_500.jpg = How Arthur looks for my story


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for links to songs in the text. They'll be hyper linked to their titles. Make sure you right click and open in new tab. :D

I noticed the flyer when I was looking for material for a collage.  I had been dabbling in different forms of art for the last few months now that I had more free time since my degree had finished up. I was really enjoying digital photography and collage. I’d decided that clay and metal work was something I was absolutely terrible at. But photo and collage was close enough to the 2-D art I knew that I’d picked it up with relative ease. I was starting a large multimedia piece of my knights with newspaper, red shinny paper, and gold paint. I’d, up to this point, been using mostly red wrapping paper, but I’d run out of newspaper and I decided to keep my eyes open for other red materials as I made my hunt, because I was starting to get sick of using the same material. It caught my eye because it was mostly red, black, and gold. I shoved the newspapers I’d gathered into my laptop bag and reached to tug it off the bulletin board.

I probably looked like I was mental staring at the flyer like I’d seen a ghost. But I couldn’t help it, there he was. Merlin. My Merlin. On a flyer for a solo act performance with a backup band at a local club. I didn’t know that Merlin could sing. I tried to search my past memories for a time I’d heard him sing and I could only pull up some humming over boot polishing. I shrugged it off. I had never shown an interest in art when I was a King, perhaps this incarnation of Merlin was more musical. I carefully folded the flyer and put it in my bag. The show was tonight at a club I’d never even heard off. Not that I ever went to clubs. I’d never been much of a partier. Not that I’d ever been invited to parties or to go out to a club or even a pub. People tended to stay away from the rich public school prep boy living on daddy’s money. I didn’t even know what one wore to a club. A sweater? A Jacket? A T-Shirt and jeans?

It didn’t matter, I decided. I was going to that show even if I stuck out like a sore thumb, even if my father found out somehow (I really hoped that won’t happen), even if Merlin didn’t remember me. I was going to see him and talk to him. I wanted him to be back in my life, even if I had to start our friendship all over again from zero.

That’s how I found myself getting out of a cab and heading down some stairs to an underground club called The Underworld. The bouncer eyed me up and down and I was suddenly self-conscious about my outfit. I’d gone with red button down and dark jeans, with some chucks and a dark jacket. I nervously ran my hand through my gelled up hair as he checked my ID and took my cover charge.  He handed my ID back and waved me in, and it was like entering another world. It took me a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the dark. When they did, I took in the drunken masses. Fuck, wow, was I overdressed. The women were in skirts and glitter, but all the blokes were in black t-shirts with logos and ripped jeans. Too late to change now. I gathered up some of the courage I had once used to go into battle and pushed through to get closer to the stage.

He was already there. He was up on the stage doing a sound check and answering questions the club’s drummer had about his music. I thought that it must be hard to teach on the fly like that. Maybe he couldn’t afford to hire a drummer full time. Maybe I could buy him one. Was that a weird thing to do? I pondered over this while I watched his blacked haired head bob around the stage. He was skinnier than I remembered. I wondered if he had yet to get the wiry muscles he had built up in the last few years of my reign. Maybe I’d teach him sword play and he’d gain them over time as we practiced together. I wondered if this Merlin had magic too. Maybe he’d traded magic for music.

He had a very different style than I’d imagined for him. There was no neck scarf or bright solid colours in red, blue, and brown. He was dressed in black: Black boots, a black t-shirt with a red hand print smeared down the front, and black leather pants. Yes, black _leather_ pants. He was even wearing black eyeliner. He did have some things I recognized though, like his blue eyes, pale skin, and the gold signet ring he wore on his finger. It was the same ring that I’d once worn during my time on the throne. It was the same one I’d entrusted to Gaius in my time of dying. I wondered how he’d gotten it. Did this mean he remembered his past life? Or had he just stumbled upon in by an act of fate?

“Alright, shuddup shuddup.” He announced into the mic with the same voice I remembered from my dreams, only with a different vernacular. “Name’s Merlin, like the bird not the Wizard. You can blame my mum for that one. I’m gunna sing you some stuff, play a little guitar, and my mate behind me is going to bring the drums. I don’t have any thing to sell you, but I’m working on an EP so, err, look out for that I guess.” He shrugged in what I found to be an adorable manner. It reminded me more of the Merlin my memories had provided me with. “Let’s start it off a little slow. Set the mood and we’ll build it up. This is called [‘Without You’.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDdtlL5sBg8)”

He then picked up his guitar and I found myself gaping over the golden dragon painted right onto the front of it. That was the Pendragon crest. I recognized it immediately. It was in all my dreams and splashed all over my artwork. It was clear that he remembered as much as I did. Certainly, he had to, I thought to myself as he started to strum out some opening broken chords waiting for the drums to pick up the rhythm. Then he started sing.

“ _Darling are you dreaming are you dreaming of me now?”_ He asked and I felt my heart stutter. _Yes!_ I wanted to shout. How had he managed to write lyrics that were so true for me without even knowing how’d they’d affect me or that I’d ever hear them? On top of this, he actually had a rather beautiful voice, a clear tenor that rose above the din of the club and was complemented by his electric guitar. 

“ _Leaving? Are you leaving, when I need you here the most? I need you more than ever. All I have is your holy ghost. There must be, must be something else waiting for you. Oh, I can’t keep on without you.”_

This song was really … sad. It brought to the front of my mind the memories of my death. I wondered if that had gone into the inspiration for this song. That was awfully self-centered to think though, surely this Merlin had other friends and family and experiences to influence his lyrics. Just because most of my art was about Camelot, didn’t mean that his inspiration drew from it.

“ _You paint my broken heart, like some awful piece of art. And I watch my world as it falls down around, but still I pray you will come back some day.”_ Again it struck a chord in me. I painted! I came back! We both did! It made me wonder how Merlin had died. Hopefully peacefully of old age after helping a lot of people. Maybe he could fill in the gaps in my knowledge about what happened to Camelot after my death.

The next two songs seemed bitter, almost angry. They were called [“Better Off”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymUTWzsoiIg) and [“A Little More”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FyEkimQb22s) and featured such lines as: “ _I’m better off on my own_ ”, “ _This place is so empty_ ”, “ _Nothing can save me_ ”, “ _A twisted up frown disguised as a smile_ ”, and “ _Can’t tell me to heal_ ”. He virtually shouted some of these lyrics, strumming down on the strings of the guitar with so much force I worried he’d break a string. He was sweating and panting by the time he was done with his set. I wanted to draw him. I’d use charcoal and red wax. I scrambled for my cell phone and took a few pictures while he set up for his last song. I wished I’d brought my good camera for a minute, then I remembered that it would have probably gotten broken in a place like this. I promised myself I’d get him to pose live for a painting someday.

“Alright. This is the last number. It’s called[ ‘Red Regret’ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euuxPokAeIA)and it, like all my music, is dedicated to a prat that I used to know a long time ago.”  That had to be me. He had to know who I was. He had to remember. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind anymore. I had to see him. I had to talk to him.

“ _I couldn't take it couldn't stand another minute. Couldn't bear another day without you in it. All of the joy that I had known for my life was stripped away from me the minute that you died.”_

His voice held such emotion. My fingers itched for a paint brush, or maybe a sword.

“ _To have you in my life was all I ever wanted but now without you I'm a soul forever haunted. Can't help but feel that I had taken you for granted. No way in hell that I can ever comprehend this. I wasn't dreaming when they told me you were gone, I was wide awake and feeling that they had to be wrong. How could you leave me when you swore that you would stay? Now I’m trapped inside a nightmare every single f'ing day_.”

I wanted to shout that I didn’t mean to leave him. That I would do anything to go back and avoid Mordred’s blow.

 _“It's like a movie but there's not a happy ending, every scene fades black and there's no pretending. This little fairy tale doesn't seem to end well. There’s no knight in shining armor who will wake me from the spell. I know you didn't plan this. You tried to do what's right. But in the middle of this madness, I'm the one you left to win this fight_.”

That was a little bit of Merlin’s humor, referencing the knights and the fact that our story had become a fairy tale. Despite this though, I felt my eyes welling up.

_“Red like roses, fills my head with dreams and finds me always closer to the emptiness and sadness that has come to take the place of you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:  
> http://www.theunderworldcamden.co.uk/ = The Underworld Club
> 
> http://i.imgur.com/YG1ZUi7.jpg = Current Merlin
> 
> Song List from 1st show: 
> 
> This Providence: “Keeping On Without You” (Story title: Without You) 
> 
> Sum 41: “Pieces” (Better Off)
> 
> Paramore: Careful (A Little More) 
> 
> Jeff Williams: Red Like Roses Part II (Red Regret)


	3. Chapter Two

He wasn’t alone when I made my way through the throng of people and around to the back where the bands loaded and unloaded.

“That’s my number, there. You call when you want to do the drum tracks on your album an’ I’ll come ‘round.” He said, handing Merlin a card. He sounded Irish. I realized it was the drummer from the show. Merlin had been helping him pack up hit kit, which is why Merlin wasn’t packed up yet. I was glad for that.

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed, pocketing the card and waving him off, “Thanks, mate.”  The man got in his car and drove off, and I made my move while he turned to wrap his wires and mic up.

I took a halting step forward and stopped to nervously run a hand through my hair. It had become plastered to my forehead during the show and I attempted to half-heartedly swipe it back up off my skin. He was so close to me and so real and we were all alone. I just had to say something and he’d look up and everything would be right again. So I did.

“Merlin?” I inquired. He didn’t look up from where he was bent over zipping up his bag.

“I don’t do signatures, I don’t do pictures, I don’t do private parties, I don’t do requests, and I don’t do threesomes. I’m tired and I’m going home. So bugger off.” He answered, sounding tired but snarky. I blinked, nonplussed. That wasn’t expected. This Merlin was certainly much brasher than the one from my dreams.

“No. You don’t understand. Merlin, it’s me!” He snorted.

“What’s so special about you, then?” He asked and then looked up. And his eyes immediately widened, blue pupils blows out in shock. “Ar-” He broke off and shook his head rapidly, pointing a finger at me. “No. No. This is bullshit. I’m seeing things. You are not here!” He sounded startlingly angry.

“Merlin.” I tried, unsure how to proceed.

“Shut up! You shut up until I can light a cig.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and with trembling fingers pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tugged one out and then started patting around for a lighter. I watched, feeling utterly out of my depth. I felt stuck, trying to reconcile this Merlin with the kind and smiling Merlin in my mind.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a light?” He asked.

“Er, no.”

“You always were useless.”  I frowned. I certainly hadn’t expected him to go straight to insulting me. He eyed me up and down. “How much do you remember?”

“Everything till the moment of my exceedingly heroic death.” I answered honestly. He snorted again, this time with a tad more humor behind it. That had been what I’d been aiming for.

“Brilliant.” With that his clicked his fingers together and I watched his eyes flash gold. Magic. He still had magic. A small controlled flame now emerged from his finger and he lit the cigarette with it. He was powerful. I remembered Gaius telling me that Merlin was the most powerful warlock ever. I wondered if that was still true now.

“Merlin. It’s so good to see you. It hasn’t been the same without you.” I tried again. He sucked a slow drag on his cigarette and eyed me suspiciously.

“It’s always about you. Once a spoiled prat ...” He trailed off, walking over to me slowly. I chuckled at that.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been more glad to be called a prat.” He laughed, suddenly, and for a moment he was the Merlin I knew. He reached out and pushed at my shoulder. I pushed back, a flashback of us roughhousing overlapping with the present. He shook his head, finally smiling.

“So, you’re back then.”

“I’m sorry I ever left.” I tugged him into a hug. He stiffened, but slowly returned it.

“Help me carry my stuff back to my flat.” He said pulling out of my arms and going back to where he’d left his gear on the ground. “It’s just ‘round the corner, and lord knows I’ve spend enough time carrying around your stuff.”

“Sounds fair.” I was more than willing to do a little manual labor if it meant getting a chance to catch up.

“So, what happened after I died? I’ll admit I’m incredibly curious.” I asked him. He shoved a carrying case full of wires and his disassembled mic stand into my arms. “Oof.”

“Too much to tell you on the walk home.” He said, putting the cigarette between his teeth and leading the way. I followed him.

“Well. How about the highlights, then?” 

“Yea, I’ll just give you the sparknotes of the last 15 centuries.” I stopped walking and he looked back expectantly.

“What!?”

“Well you took your time coming back. Excuse me if I don’t feel like reliving hundreds of years of out living everyone and everything.” He mumbled around his cig.

“Wait... Wait! You’re telling me you’ve been around this entire time, just waiting for me?”

“Why is it always about you? Though it’s probably your second coming’s fault that I’m immortal. You or those damn druids, or fucking Kilgharrah. Smarmy know it all prick of a dragon.”

I tried to wrap my head around this knew information. He’d been alive since the time of Camelot. I couldn’t imagine that. The loneliness.

“I didn’t know.” He started walking again and I followed in a stupor.

“Well,” He shrugged and snuffed out his cig, “Now you know, and we’re here. Come on up, if you like.” 

He unlocked the door and I noticed the flyer tapped to it: “Looking for flatmate”. I filed that information away and followed him inside. It wasn’t huge, it was good sized but not as big as it could have been, but it was richly furnished. Not in an extravagant, gaudy way (like my childhood home) but with good quality material, like all wood floors and stainless steel. The entryway was cluttered with, what I assumed was, years’ worth of collected items. I wanted to wander and see if there was anything from Camelot hidden in the nooks and crannies.

“Nice place.”

“When you live forever, you have time to invest money into furnishings. Give me that.”

He grabbed the bag from me and dropped it on a chair. I noticed a picture on the hall table of Merlin from, I didn’t know, the twenties, the forties? He looked handsome in a proper suit. I picked it up to look at it.

“Grandpa Emrys.” He said with a wink. I huffed.

“It’s getting late.” I commented awkwardly to break the silence, playing with the sleeve of my jacket.

“Want a drink?” He bit his lip. I blinked to clear away the ridiculous notion to kiss it. We weren’t like that. We were just friends, mates. Weren’t even back to how close we used to be yet.

“I saw you were looking for a flatmate.” I said instead of answering. He barked out a laugh, his body jerking in an awkward way that reminded me of the way he used to be around me.

“You offering?”

“I’m good for the money. Dad’s loaded.” He grinned.

“Nothing’s changed there, then. Still entitled.”  

“Is that a yes?”

“You really wanna live with me? I’m not your servant anymore, you know.”

“Now, come on. Give me some credit. I’m not about to start ordering you about. I just…”

“What?” He grinned and I rubbed at my neck, embarrassed.

“Want to be around you, you know, now that I found you.” He blinked at me.

“Yea, alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yes.”

“What was that, Merlin?” I teased and he shoved me, laughing.

“Yes, you can move in, clotpole.”

That’s more like it, I thought. I reached out and tugged him to me from the back of his neck. And he fell into my arms easily this time, gripping on to my coat and burying his face in my shoulder. I ruffled his hair, wondering why rarely hugged him back the first time around. Standing on tradition, I suppose. It hadn’t been proper to hug a servant. That didn’t matter now. Now we were just two people. One who’d been born with something missing and one who’d been waiting for the other a long time. It just felt so good to hold him. And then he started shaking.

“Merlin? Are you … crying?” I asked incredulously. I’d been emotional the first time I saw him up on that stage, and I hadn’t been waiting so long as him, but he’d been so aloof up to this point so it still startled me.

“No.” His obviously lie was punctuated by a sniffle. I had to laugh.

“You’re going to make your eyeliner run, you girl. You better not ruin this jacket.”

“God, I hate you so much right now. I’d forgotten how much of an arsehole you are.”


	4. Chapter Three

Convincing my father than I needed to move out was not the problem. He’d been telling me for months that it wasn’t appropriate for a 27-year-old to be living at home even if he was still paying my expenses. He somehow found a way to blame my failure to own my own place in my choice of study for the last six or something years of my life. I just told him to remember that when a portrait of him was hanging in a gallery exhibition. Either way he agreed to pay the entire rent, which wasn’t all that much. Merlin wasn’t really asking for much and he owned the place, so it wasn’t like there was a rentman to pay off. He was mostly looking for company when he put the Ad out. Someone who would rent for a bit and move on before they noticed he didn’t age.

The hard part was moving all my art stuff. I’d called a moving company for the larger canvases and the easels and the wait for them to unpack was utterly nerve-wracking. I didn’t like trusting someone else with my work. Merlin had sectioned off a whole side of the largest room in his flat for my stuff. It was the same room he used for his music. I could tell because on the other side of the room resided a rack of guitars, a baby grand piano, and plenty of technical equipment. I liked the idea of our two arts being made in the same room. It would give me a good opportunity to watch him and paint him while he played.

During the moving process Merlin had remained relatively quiet, especially when it came it came to the paintings. When I’d been unpacking my personal items, like clothes and books, he’d kept his comments to: “You read books?” and “Of course half your wardrobe is red and has brand name label. Posh prat.” But when my finished painting were being set out he’d gone completely quiet. After I’d finished paying the movers I found him staring at a large oil painting of the round table, with the knights in attendance. I imagined that it must be like stepping into the past for him. The memories were all really fresh for me. I wondered if they’d started to fade for him, if he could still remember the sound of his mother’s voice, Gaius’s scolding, or Gwaine’s laugh. Could he remember the smell of food at the feasts or the candles and incense at the summer market? Remember the different remedies and poultices he’d learned in his study under Gaius? Were our adventures starting to blur with the fairytales he’d read?

He didn’t mention it though. Not then. Instead he’d told me to keep the loo clean and that the fridge was stocked and if I wanted anything added to the grocery list to just write it down. I’d shrugged this off, planning on living off take away or eating out. Cooking was never something I’d fully mastered. But later, Merlin disrupted this plan by cooking enough for two and insisting we sat down to a proper meal together.

“Thanks for making room for my art.” Was my attempt to start a discourse as we ate the pasta he’d made. It was surprisingly good. I supposed that culinary skills were something he’d cultivated over time same as his musical ones.

“You’re good. Talented.”

“Thanks. Use it to get the images out of my head. You know, all the flashbacks from my past life. I used to have dreams about them and I just needed to put them all down somewhere. I studied art for my degree, much to my father’s chagrin.”

“And how is dear old Uther Pendreigh, CEO and loving father of two?” I raised an eyebrow at this. He looked sheepish.

“I absolutely googled you.”

“Dad is pretty much the same in this life. Only instead of taking people who he doesn’t agree with to be killed he just takes them to court.” Merlin started laughing and almost spit out the pasta he was chewing on.

“Not much changed there then. I’ll be sure to avoid ‘im.” We both chuckled softly for a bit before I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“What happened to Camelot?” He sighed, put his fork down, and stood up. He started clearing away the dishes, including mine even though I wasn’t done eating. In another life I might have complained, hell I might have complained in this one if I was trying to get him to relive a past he clearly didn’t want to relive.

“Gwen remarried after a few years. It wasn’t love, of course, but they seemed happy.”

“Who?” I asked, feeling like I should be more upset about this. I had loved her. I was sure of that.  But there was a disconnect. It was like hearing someone else’s story.

“Leon.” I remembered Leon. He was good knight and a loyal friend. He was smart too.

“Very good. I’m sure he was a fine king. Good for Leon.” I approved.

“He was. He and Gwen ruled for a long time and then their son ruled. It was a Golden Age for Camelot, for all of Albion.”

“Did the ban on magic ever get over turned?” 

“Yea, and I was paraded around as Court Sorcerer for a while. I felt ridiculous, the hat… let’s just say I was glad you weren’t there to tease me. It was like Leon picked it just to get a laugh out of you from the grave.” He shook his head at the dish he was drying. 

“How long did you stay in Camelot? How long did she flourish? How long did she last? How’d you end up with my ring?” I grimaced. I hadn’t meant to ask so many questions. He just heaved a put-upon sigh and started walking away.

“Well, you coming or what?” He called back over his shoulder. I frowned. He led me to a closet. It was a closet full of boxes. He pulled one of the boxes out. On the top was written “Camelot”.  He opened the first one and it was full of journals. “This it everything from the day I left Ealdor for Camelot to the day Camelot fell to invaders. It has all our quests and all the ones I had when you thought I was in the tavern.”

“Hey, you can blame Gaius for that one.”  

“Yeah, well, you can read this, save me the breath it’d take to explain it to you.” He tossed the first journal to me and walked to his room.

I opened the book to the first page. It was a beautiful hardbound book with the Royal seal on it. It looked like the kind of ledgers Geoffrey used for his ledgers. The pages were yellowed and the binding cracked when I opened it to the first page. I gulped. This was going to disintegrate in my hands as I read it. _Looking back, I think that accidentally turning William’s hair purple for three days had been the last straw for my mother._   Chucking at his words, I recognized Merlin’s scribbling scrawl from the speeches he’d written for me even though that wasn’t technically part of his job.

I put the book back in the box and dragged the whole thing over into the den. Merlin had left his room and was laying lengthwise on the couch, smoking a joint. I scooted the box over to his bare feet. Then I reached over and grabbed ahold of his ankles, lifting them to sit down on the couch, hoping I wouldn’t get secondhand high. I let his feet rest in my lap. He grinned and wriggled his toes. I slapped him on the foot and leaned over to get the journal out of the box.

“Why am I not surprised, Merlin, that you’re giving me homework?”

“I think you can manage. I had to live it all.”

“I was there for this part, idiot.” He stuck his tongue out at me.

“Read, dollophead.”

And so I read. I read through all of our adventures. And I learned all the things I’d never known, in either lifetime. I learned about the times I’d almost died that I hadn’t even known about, about Balinor and Merlin’s inheritance of the title Dragonlord, about his struggle over whether or not to tell me about Morgana and Agravaine. I learned about Freya and the truth about Will’s sacrifice. There were so many things I had been blissfully ignorant of. So many things I owed him thanks for and apologizes for. But he was fast asleep by the time I’d finished the first four or five years our friendship.

“Idiot.” I huffed and stood up, careful to put his feet back on the couch. Then I made sure to grab his now mostly snuffed out joint out from his fingers before he dropped it onto the floor or his shirt and burned the place down. I made sure it was out completely before going off in search of a blanket.

I didn’t want to venture into his room. It seemed like an invasion of privacy. There might have been a time when we didn’t think twice about waltzing into each other’s rooms. Which, thinking back, could have been problematic for him. So Instead I searched a different closet and didn’t find a blanket. I found instead something very different. It was an assortment of things. There was a suit that looks like it was straight out of the 1920’s (perhaps the same one he’d been wearing in the photograph on the table – was photography that prevalent then?), a smattering of swords with different levels of rust (wondered if I’d read about what he done with my sword), there was a large wooden staff with a blue crystal on the end, a collection of records, a plastic plant (for some reason), and there, glaring red at me, was a pendant from Camelot. It was the same one that had hung behind my throne, the huge one with the Pendragon crest on it. I reached out and brushed my fingers over the silk. I wondered how much he’d saved.

I ended up giving him the blanket off of my bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:  
> If you can't see the seal on the wax on the book I took it from this image: 
> 
> http://scifistorm.org/2013/05/08/merlin-preview-the-kindness-of-strangers-and-a-chance-to-win-some-cool-merlin-stuff/pendragon-stamp/
> 
> :D


	5. Chapter Four

Living together wasn’t as difficult as it could have been. Merlin was a little bit messy and he would leave cigarette butts in the bathroom, which was gross. But he always cooked as long as I went out and bought the food. When it got too messy, so that it was starting to even bother him, I’d see brooms making their own way across the floor. We really didn’t fight, not about anything serious. Sometimes we wrestled over the TV remote and sometimes he drank the milk out of the carton, but I didn’t mind very much.

He hadn’t had anymore gigs since we met– I guess that he wasn’t hard up for cash. It meant that his clothes weren't as tight and leathery. Which was both a good thing and a tragedy. He usually wore faded jeans and sweaters, in browns and reds. He liked converse when going out and to go barefoot in the house. He chewed on pencils when he wasn’t smoking and his hair, while short, was always messy.

I spent most days drawing and painting. I finished my collage of the knights. I thought it turned out really well. Next a painted and gold leafed the Great Dragon. Merlin helped, kept saying I had to make him more serious and grumpy and less mean and scary. Mostly I sketched Merlin. Merlin cooking, Merlin smoking, Merlin watching the rain hit the window, Merlin licking ice cream off his spoon, Merlin chewing on a pencil, Merlin sleeping on the couch, Merlin chewing on his lower lip, just… Merlin.

And most of my nights I spent reading his journals. After a month I still hadn’t finished the Camelot box but I’d past my death. It was really hard to read from Merlin’s point of view. He blamed himself so much. When I’d read that part I’d walked over to him and enveloped him in a hug. He returned it without questioning it. Either he knew where I was in his story or he didn’t need to know, because there were so many parts that deserved that response. He usually sat with me while I read, sometimes reading a biography of someone famous that left me wondering if he had ever meet them. Sometimes he’d put in his earbuds and listen to music or he’d strum his guitar, working out chords and melodies or playing riffs that I would sometimes recognize.

The best times were when he scooted up next to me on the couch and read over my shoulder, offering side comments as supplements to my reading. These nights usually ended with us laughing no matter how depressing the subject matter. Sometimes he’d bring out the ice cream and we’d talk until the sun came up and we fell asleep, sharing the couch.

Merlin commented on the fact that I was quieter this time around, calmer. I told him that he was too. He said: “I’m old, what’s your excuse?” But I was quiet because of how I’d grown up, sheltered, he was quiet because he was… sad, because he’d been alone for so long, because he’d forgotten how to let someone in. I wanted to fix that.

I hadn’t gotten as much sleep as someone who didn’t have a job should be getting. If I wasn’t already up late reading, I was often woken up in the early hours of the morning to screaming. The first time it happened I jolted out of bed and was outside Merlin’s bedroom door before I realized what I was doing. The screaming had stopped by the time I’d knocked on the door. The first few times I hadn’t gotten a response and had just given up and gone back to bed. Last night, however, he’d thrown open the door and told me to “ ** _FUCK OFF!_** ” So I did.

I woke up to the sound of whistling and the smell of eggs. I threw on some sweatpants and stumbled into the bathroom, probably looking more like a zombie than a person, and brushed my teeth. I wasn’t a morning person in this lifetime either. At least I didn’t have Merlin literally dragging me out of my bed. Or did I miss that?

The sight of Merlin at the stove cooking wasn’t an unusual one, but this morning was different. He was shirtless. I had never seen him this exposed before, had I? Certainly not in this go around. But it was more than the expanse of pale skin that had me frozen at the door. He had a tattoo. And more than just a drunken mistake tramp stamp tattoo. His back was inked with a large dragon. It wasn’t a dragon that I was familiar with, such as Kilgharrah or Morgana’s white dragon. It long and twisting. It was beautiful and it suited him perfectly. It was a breathtaking sight to see something so fucking majestic in such a normal domestic scene. Two thoughts floated to the top of my whirling, semi-awake mind. The first was that I wanted to draw him like this. The second was, I wonder what he would do if I walked up behind him, pressed my chest to his back, and kissed the skin just below his ear. He’d probably magic me to the ceiling and not let me down till I promised not to molest him again.

“Morning, mate.” I greeted after shaking away both thoughts for now. Maybe I’d get a chance to draw him later. The second thought was a dangerous path to go down.

“Morning.” He responded, calmly. “I’m makin’ omelets. And you have mail.” I raised an eyebrow and picked up the envelope from the table. It was from my father.

_Arthur,_

_This letter is to inform you that a sum of 850£ has been added to your bank account to go towards your next month’s rent and food expenses._

_The company is doing well and while I do wish you would take an interest in taking over the business, and I don’t understand how you plan to make a living in art, your inheritance is safe._

I rolled my eyes. Father was always reminding me how benevolent he was for continuing to pay for my expenses because I had no proper income of my own, even though I had family money locked up for me safely.  

_Morgan is racking up thousands of American dollars on her visit there, so at least you are currently the least expensive child. I don’t believe she plans on settling into a career soon or settling down, either._

_I hope the new apartment is treating you well and that your cohabitant, Mr. Emrys, is polite and cleanly. If you have any difficulties, let me know and they will be dealt swiftly through legal actions._

_Regards,_

I snorted. Formal as ever. Whose parent signed a letter to their son with their first name?

“How’s daddy Warbucks?”  Merlin asked through a mouthful of omelet.

“Chew and swallow.” I teased and grabbed my own plate.

“Let me guess. He loves you but you’re still a disappointment?” He grinned, kindly.  I chuckled. My father’s disposition appeared to be one of the things that stayed consistent between both my lifetimes.

“Something like that.”

“Good ol’ Uther. Some things never change.” I looked at him, the tip of a dragon wing showing where it wrapped around his rib.

“Some things do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:
> 
> Dragon looks sort of like this one: http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/121/9/f/dragon_tattoo_by_amorphisss-d63ppgy.jpg
> 
> But it is in the style of this one:  
> http://www.tattoostime.com/images/345/black-tribal-dragon-tattoo.jpg
> 
> And it is as big as this one:  
> http://www.tattooshunt.com/images/14/grey-ink-large-dragon-tattoo-on-back.jpg
> 
> There will be a proper picture provided in a later chapter, I promise.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Reference to suicide attempt.

When I woke up to the sound of my name being shouted desperately I wasn’t sure what timeline I was in. Was I in the middle of a fight with eight bandits? Was I lying mortally wounded? No. Then I realized that Merlin was having another nightmare. I didn’t know whether I should go and knock on his door. Last night I’d been met with a rather irate Merlin. Maybe it would be better to let him try to do back to sleep without the interruption. I decided to wait and see if he shouted again. I sat up and waited in the dark. My phone told me that it was three in the morning.

It was quiet for a while and I had almost fallen back asleep when I heard two knocks on my door.

“Come in.” I acknowledged. Merlin poked his head in around the door. His pale skin almost glowed in the dark. I waved him in further. He was wearing an oversized gray Beatles t-shirt and flannel Pajama bottoms. I felt under dressed in my boxers and cotton undershirt. “What is it?’

“It’s stupid.” He rocked on his heels and looked at the floor.

“Well, that’s okay. Everything you do is stupid. Tell me anyway.” He rolled his eyes but a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

“I just had to make sure that you were really back. You didn’t come to check on me tonight, and for a second I thought that I’d dreamed this whole last month.”

“You’re the one who told me to fuck off last night.”

“Since when do you listen to me?”  I chuckled.

“Fair point.” I scooted over in my bed and peeled back the covers. “Come here.” I patted the spot next to me. He smiled slyly and shook his head. I squinted and channeled my best King Arthur voice. “That was an order, Merlin.”

I think my smirk might have ruined the effect but his eyebrows still rose in shock and he scrambled over, stopping when he was kneeling in the spot I’d cleared for him. His eyes were red like he’d been crying. I reached out and grabbed ahold of his wrist. I pulled his closer and placed his hand on my chest. His fingers were clenched into a tight fist.

“Feel that?” I asked. He swallowed and looked at his hand. I covered his with my own and coaxed his fingers open till his palm was flat against my t-shirt. ”Can you feel my heart beating? I’m real. I’m here. I’m alive, I promise.”

“Arthur.” He breathed, his face screwing up. I just breathed deep and let him listen. He kept leaning in closer until his forehead rested on my shoulder. I reached an arm around him and rubbed his upper back. He matched his breathing to mine and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m so messed up.” He whispered. “You were probably hoping for the same happy go lucky companion you knew from your memories. Instead you get me: a broken remnant who’s lived too long.”

That broke my heart. I never wanted him to think that I was disappointed in him. I was so proud to call him my friend. I wrapped my arms tight around him and squeezed before pulling back and forcing him to look at me. I gripped his shoulders and his hand, that wasn’t attached to my t-shirt still, wrapped around my bicep.

“You, Merlin, are not broken. You are brave.”

“Yea, ‘cause waking up every night screamin’ is the picture of bravery.”

“Tell me about the nightmares?” He heaved a sigh and shifted. We both settled down into a more comfortable position, leaning back against the head of the bed, shoulder to shoulder.

“I see you die a lot. Sometimes it’s the way it really happened. You in my arms, and me, for all my magic, powerless you help you, you thanking me and me wanting to shout at you that you shouldn’t be thanking me because I failed. Sometimes I see you die in different ways, like burning in a fire or ripped apart. Sometimes I see myself killing you in place of Mordred. Sometimes I imagine I’m looking at my reflection in a mirror. And then I- I morph into Morgana or Mordred or just some dead and monstrous evil thing. And my eyes are all black or all red and I laugh. The laugh is such an evil thing and my teeth are all pointed. Sometimes my eyes bleed or black smoke comes out of my throat until I choke. Sometimes I watch myself slit my own throat or I catch fire.

“Sometimes Uther is burning me on the Pire. Sometimes I’m in the middle of the trenches of the Great War and everyone around me is dying, and I’m riddled with bullets but I just stay alive anyway, forced to watch them die. Or it’s World War two and it’s raining fire from the sky and there is this little girl who can’t get to bomb shelter and for some reason I can’t reach my magic.

“And now that you’re back. I see you like this, but I see you die like this. I fail you again and you die all over again. Or I dream that this was a dream. That I woke up and you were never- never really there at all.” He started heaving a bit, working himself up into a panic. I leaned into his shoulder a bit more.

“I’m here. You never have to doubt that again.”

“But why?” He asked franticly, “Why now?”

“Does it matter?”

“It fucking matters!” He shouted, turning on me, eyes burning gold. “At Albion’s greatest need! That’s what Kilgharrah said to me. Well, I was there the day that Camelot burned to the ground! I was the one leading as many people to safety as possible and I did that all on my own! Where were you!?”

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry.” I reached out to him and tried to sooth him.

“There is no Albion anymore, Arthur. There’s just me!” He smacked my chest. Then he did it again and I had to catch a hold of his wrists.

“Maybe- Maybe I’m supposed to help you then.” I offered. He sniffled and then laughed softly. He looked up at me, blue eyes watery.

“Then why weren’t you there to talk me down the time I walked off the edge of a building, because I was so tired of living?”

I blinked, stunned, trying to comprehend what he’d just admitted to me, and before I could formulate a response he’d tugged out of my grasp, climbed out of my bed, and slammed the door behind him. I immediately gave chase. I found him sitting at the piano, running his fingers over the keys lightly. I walked over and sat down on the bench next to him. I straddled it so that, perching on the edge, I could face him.

“Merlin.”

“Music calms me down.” He interrupted and began[ playing.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5mfVD5kiCA) I didn’t recognize it until he started singing.

“ _I walked across an empty land, I knew the pathway like the back of my hand. I felt the earth, beneath my feet, sat by the river and it made me complete. Oh simple thing, where have you gone? I’m getting tired and I need someone to rely on.”_

I cleared my throat and sang the next verse with him.

“ ** _I came across a fallen tree. I felt the branches of it looking at me. Is this the place we used to love? Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?_** ”

He glanced over and smiled tentatively.

“ _Oh simple thing, where have you gone? I’m getting old and I need something to rely on. **And if you have a minute why don’t we go talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything. So why don’t we go somewhere only we know?**_ ”

“You have a nice voice.” He commented after we’d finished. I raised an eyebrow.

“No, I don’t.” He broke into a grin.

“No, you don’t. That was awful.” I shoved him, my anger false. I was happy to see him laughing again.

“From now on, when you wake up from a bad dream. You come to me. I don’t know why I’m back now, but I’m not going to waste it with us keeping things from each other again. Nothing you tell me will make me feel any different about you. I remember when you told me you had magic. It took me a bit to understand that new part of you, but I got there. No matter what, you are still you. That’s all that matters to me.”

“You’re quite a bit more sentimental this time around.”

“Shut up.” I yanked him forcefully into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:
> 
> Song: "Somewhere Only We Know" : Lilly Allen version (Because the piano is so pretty in that version)


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the Merthur. Here it comes!!

“Why don’t you just ask me to model for you instead of drawing me when you think I’m not paying attention?” He inquired from his spot on the couch without looking up from his laptop where he was editing a background track for a song.

“Not as sneaky as I’d hoped, then?” I asked, not ashamed to admit I’d been caught. His cheekbones were just so much fun to sketch. And his ears. And lips. And his eyes. And his hands.

“Not even close. You’ve always been refreshingly transparent.”

“I complement your air of mystery, I suppose.” He grinned and set his laptop aside.

“So go on, dollophead. Ask me, already.” 

“Well, now I don’t want to.” He huffed and rolled his eyes.

“How do you want me?” He asked, standing up and stretching. That was a loaded question. Every way, I wanted to answer.

“Can I paint your tattoo?” He shrugged and pulled his shirt off over his head. “Go sit on the window sill.”

He did as I asked and I walked over to position him how I wanted him. I had him parallel to the window with his feet up on the seat, one knee bent. I wanted to be able to see the tattoo and his face so I had his twist his body toward the window but turn his head back towards his legs, resting his left arm on his knee lightly and using the other for support. He looked like a work of art already, the image of the contrast of his pale skin and the dark ink, the sharp angles of his frame, already forming in my mind. I grabbed my dark black ink and my whitest paper and began inking in the outlines of his form and his tattoo. I didn’t need this to be realistic or multi-dimensional. I was going for a different look.

“It really is a beautiful tattoo. It suits your perfectly.” I commented.

“I’m glad you think so. I told the artist to turn me into a dragon. I wanted to remember the part of me that was a Dragonlord even if there weren’t any more dragons alive.”

“I think I can understand that.”

He was coming alive on my page. I had to move pretty fast with the ink since I preferred quick dry ink, it helped prevent bleeding and running. So it wasn’t that long before I was ready to move on the next step. I inked in the background behind him black. Then I got out my gold paint and added in the stars and the starlight on the highlights of his cheekbones and his shoulder blades. This was how I saw him. And now I could show him.

“Come here.” I motioned him over.

“You’re done already?”

“Don’t doubt my skills. Get your ass over here.” He laughed and scrambled over. When he reached me I tugged him to stand in front of me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my chin on his shoulder.

 ****  


“Wow. That is _not_ me.” He said sounding bemused and shaking his head.

“What do you mean, you dope? Of course it’s you.”

“But I don’t look like that. I’m awkward and too skinny and too pale and my face isn’t the right proportions. This person is…” He trailed off, lost for words.

“Strong?” I asked in a whisper, letting the words brush against the soft skin of his shoulder. I felt a full-body shiver run through his frame. “Beautiful?” I dared to brush my lower lip against his neck as I spoke. He swallowed. “Full of light and power?”

I was losing my restraint. It been a little under three months since we’d been reunited and I was already trying to make a move? This could ruin everything. But he smelt so good, like smoke and something fresh like morning dew, and he felt so damn right in my arms, even if he was as thin as paper. I brushed my nose behind the shell of one of his ridiculously large ears. Come on Arthur, I encouraged myself, it wasn’t timidity that won battles it was courage, be brave and take a chance. I pressed a soft kiss to the same spot I’d been nuzzling and asked, “Sexy?”

“Arthur!” He gasped breathlessly, sounding half surprised and half like he was scolding me. I grinned. Same ol’ Merlin.

“Yes?” I goaded, not acting as innocent as I affected in my voice, choosing instead to slide a palm up the front of his flat stomach and over the smattering of dark hair there. He groaned and his head tipped back lolling onto my shoulder, his body relaxing further into mine, and opening up more of his skin for my teeth to nip at.

“Fuck.” He closed his eyes, his long eyelashes fluttering. His one hand clutched at my forearm and the other reached back to grip at my thigh.

“I need for you to see yourself the way that I see you.” His fingers twitched. “Let me show you?”

For a brief second I worried that I’d pushed him too far because he ripped himself out of my grasp. But I needn’t have worried. He turned, eyes flashing gold, and threw himself at me. His fingers tugged my hair and he smashed his mouth against mine. It was hard, forceful, almost violent, but I sighed with relief.  

The morning came with the smell of cigarettes. It really didn’t surprised me that Merlin smoked the morning after sex. I imagined he would have done so right after, had we not passed out before the sweat even dried. I pried my eyes open and squinted against the light coming in my window. I noticed as I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face that I’d at least managed to make it under the blankets last night.

“You’re up then?” Merlin asked, rubbing his foot over my ankle. I turned to find him blowing smoke dragons, blue eyes glittering with magic and mischief. I leaned over and kissed his shoulder and then his neck.

“Why do you always wake me up so early, eh Merlin?” He laughed.

“It’s good for you.”

“Those aren’t.” He snorted and snuffed out his cig on my bedside table. I rolled my eyes. “You should work on quitting.”

“And why should I do that? Just because you have a pretty face?” He grinned, turning and wrapping his arms around my neck. I kissed him and slid a hand down his spine.

“Well, for one, your mouth tastes like an ash tray.” He pouted at this. “And second, it isn’t healthy, dummy.”

“And I’m immortal, stupid.”  

“Are you still? Now that I’m back?” I asked, serious.

“Everything isn’t about you. Do you have to keep reminding you?” I sat back a bit to get him to look at me properly.

“No, listen. I’ve been thinking about this. You’ve been alive waiting for me to come back, and now I’m back. So, are you going to age now? Are you still immortal?” He frowned.

“I don’t know. Wanna stab me and find out?” He laughed, trying to cover up the reality of the situation with humor.

“Merlin, be serious. I’d hate to have just found you again only to lose you to lung cancer.” Merlin sighed.

“Okay. I’ll start working on quitting. But I’ll have to introduce you to the wonders of lighting up and getting a little bit high, cause I’m not quitting that.”

“Fine. Maybe. And thank you.” I smiled and kissed him on his forehead. He shook his head, chuckling under his breath.

“The things I do for you. It’s like you think you can still order me around.” I couldn’t help but grin and press him down into the pillows.

“You know,” I murmured, kissing under his jaw, “There was a time when you would do just about anything for me.” He laughed and pulled me up for a proper kiss.

“Still would, dummy.”  I stroked his cheekbone and realized that there wasn’t going to be better time to tell him what I should have told him long before.

“I love you.” Merlin jolted and blinked at me stupidly.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Really?” He asked sounding happily surprised and looking utterly ridiculous with a grin plastered across his face. I figured that I probably looked about the same.

“I’ve loved you all my life. And probably most of the last one, even if I was too stubborn to admit it or too blind to see it, which ever it was.” He laughed, breathily.

“I have waited a very, very long time to hear you say that.”

“I should have said so the moment I met you.”

“Which time?”

“Both!” I laughed. He made a face.

“I think that might sent me running for the hills.”

“I think I probably would have startled myself, too.”

“You were a bit…” He trailed off, I’m sure trying to thick of a diplomatic description without being too insulting.

“Of an ass?”

“Utterly so.” He agreed easily.

“Well now I can spend the rest of my time making it up to you.” I grabbed his hand and kissed each of his knuckles. “And I’m going to start… by worshiping you like you’re the royalty.”

I travelled down his arm, pressing a kiss to his wrist, his inner elbow, and his shoulder. Then I spent some time mapping the jut of his collarbone and the curve of his ribs, my hands sliding over his waist. Merlin sighed and let his head fall back against the pillow. His hand stroked up my back, his nails scratching lightly. I hummed into his sternum and he echoed it.

“Oh! Wait!” He exclaimed, throwing off my trek south. “Come back up here.” I sighed and scooted back up.

“What is it now, Merlin?”

“I love you, too.”

“Of course you do.” I grinned. “How could you not? I mean, have you seen me?”

Merlin scoffed, affronted, and pushed on my shoulders, shoving me back down in the direction I’d been heading previously.

“Hey, easy with the manhandling!”

“Man handling is what you should be doing instead of running your mouth!”

“Merlin!” I sputtered, shocked at his audacity (but not that surprised).

“You heard me. Put that big mouth of yours to use in a better way.”

I did. But not before I smacked him on the ass for being a prat in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:
> 
> Yes, I made the picture that Arthur painted in this chapter. I'm pretty proud of it. Lemme know if for some reason you can't see it (or any of the other pictures from this story for that matter) and I'll get you a weblink that should work. 
> 
> :D


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler fluff chapter

“Merlin?” I called out to him as I studied the piece of paper I had been using as a bookmark to Merlin’s journal number … how many now? At least I had finished with the Camelot box last week.

That had been an eventful night. Merlin had brought out a bottle of bourbon that looked older than some of the journals and we drank until we were too drunk to cry and then we’d made out with our cheeks still wet. It was sort of ridiculous from an outside perspective, really. Now there were nights when I was the one waking up from dreams of Camelot burning. Merlin still had me beat on screaming in the middle of the night. I doubted that would ever stop completely. It was getting better though. There were night’s he’d jolt awake and it would only take a squeeze of my arms around his waist to get him to settle down again. Other nights were not so calm and neither of us would get much sleep. On these nights he’d either play music or pull out an old gramophone and put on a record. Donovan was a favorite. He had a song about [Guinevere](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6Ofasda7fw). He got the details wrong, of course, but it was still nice to listen too. He missed her a lot. Probably more than me. I’d never loved her in this life, not really. I was hard to miss someone who you’d not properly known. She was a dream for me, for Merlin she was a dear friend long gone.

But there was a lot of joy in his memories too. I could tell as much. Sometimes he’d tell me of a concert he’d been too – he’d seen the Beatles live many times and been to Woodstock. Sometimes it was up to me to tell the story, recounting the first time I’d won a fencing match or rode a horse at a gallop. Most often we fell into remembering our adventures: the unicorn tests or the castle of the Fisher King. What really made him laugh was when I brought up the feathered hat.

“What is it, brat?” His head ducking in the room.

“How many times do I have to tell you that isn’t a pet name, arsehole?” He walked over and kissed me.

“Oh Arthur, you do say the sweetest things.” I tugged him down into my lap and handed him the old, slightly wrinkled flyer. He looked at it with skepticism.

“Who took that picture?”

“No one. I set up a tri-pod and took it myself. Then I paid a college kid 20 quid to add the effects. Honestly, Arthur, why do you still even have this?”

“It’s a nice picture of you. And it was the first time that I saw you, this time.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic, Arthur? Time was you barely remembered your own anniversary.”

“What can I say? I’m a new man….literally.” I curled my fingers under his chin and chased his tongue. He groaned and slid a hand over my knee and up the inside of my jeaned thigh. I licked the roof of his mouth, reveling in the lack of ashtray after taste, now replaced with the mint of nicotine gum. It had taken a few months, but he wasn’t smoking anymore. Now instead of finding burns in the tables, I found gum stuck to walls and chairs. His pencil chewing had similarly increased.

“I’m supposed to be getting ready to go into the studio and record today.” He whined, tugging away from my mouth.

“The drummer bloke coming in too?”

“You mean, Tom? That drummer bloke? Honestly, Arthur, I don’t see what you have against him.”

“Is he coming or not?”  

“Yup. You going to come and watch? Keep an eye on him?”

“Do I need to?” He grinned at me.

“Course not. I just like seeing you all puffed up and protecting what’s yours.”

“I promise to snarl and growl and be positively be green with jealousy.” I nipped at his lip. It was an easy promise. I didn’t like how Drummer Tom looked at _my_ boyfriend. “But…” I paused, holding up a finger. “Only if you let me take the other pictures of you for your album cover.”

“So _that’s_ why you’ve set aside the canvas for a lens of late.”

“Caught on to that one all by yourself, did you?”

“Why do I put up with you?” He asked shaking his head and rolling his eyes skyward.

“Because no one else would?”

“Figure that one out all on your own, did you?” He teased, but rewarded me with a kiss.

“What song are you recording today?”

“’[Magic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hV52bNWDaU)’.” I smiled. It was, perhaps, the only upbeat and happy song on his album. He’d written it over the course of the last month and had sung it for me just last week. He’d sung it with a smile on his face and swirls of light blue rose petals circling around the room via his magic. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him so happy.

“I like that one.”

“You should. S’bout you.”

“They’re all about me.”

“Yea, ego, but this one is about _this_ you. This one is about our future instead of the past.”

“You…” I stared at him in disbelief. “Always surprising me with the things you say.”

“Making you speechless, you mean. Love seeing that startled look in your eyes when I throw you for a loop.” He said brushing his thumb over my lower lip ardently.

I was going to marry this man one day. And I bet he knew it too, smug brat.

“How I do dote on my sweet Prince, King of my heart.” He whispered, lips fluttering a soft brush where his thumb had been.

“Now come on, stop with the poetics. This is what I get for dating a musician. We’re going to be late. Get up, you lazy thing.” I pushed him off my lap with a laugh, sending him off to finish packing up his things.

I was getting to his recollection of the bubonic plague and I wasn’t really rushing to get into that. I supposed that I could afford to go play jealous boyfriend for a little bit. I put the flyer back in the journal and set it aside for now. The past could wait, the present was more important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:
> 
> Song: "Everything's Magic" by Angels and Airwaves (story title: Magic) 
> 
> If you are interested the song is "Guinevere" by Donovan and describes a Guinevere who totally isn't our lovely Angel Coulby's version. It's still a really pretty song though.


	9. Chapter Eight

After weeks of stalking my boyfriend with a camera, I’d finally chosen the picture I was going to use for the cover of his album.

“That’s what you’re going with?” He’d asked when I showed him my choice.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s fine. Just, if you were going to use that, why’d you make me do all those photo shoots?”

“Well, surely you didn’t think I was going to use the nude pictures.” Those were just for me.

Now I was almost done editing it to match the red and gold color scheme that the first picture had. Merlin and I had come up with the title for his album together. He’d been recording all month and it was really starting to come together.

“Come away from the laptop, Arthur.” Merlin whined into my ear and then began kissing my neck.

“Don’t you want your album to have a cover?”

“Plenty of time for that. No rush. Come get high with me.”

He’d been dropping hints and bothering me about it all week. Kept saying I’d promised. I’d done no such thing, I’d just implied that I’d think about it. It wasn’t that I had anything against it morally. I’d only ever seen Merlin light up once in my entire time living here with him, so I knew he wasn’t addicted. Maybe I just heard my father’s voice in my head telling me off for making poor life decisions. Maybe I was worried about what I’d be like when high. I’d never tried it before but I’d seen some videos online of high people going mental. I didn’t want to embarrass myself. But did it really matter? Surely he’d seen me at my worst before.

“Alright then.” I sighed. There was no saying no to Merlin.

He crowed in delight and tugged on my arm until I left my desk and went with him to the couch. He pulled out a box which he kept his weed in and started the process of rolling a joint. I watched his slim fingers roll the paper, his tongue tip trace the edge. Then he lit it with the tip of his finger and lifted it to his full lips. I watched him inhale slowly and breathe the smoke out his nose, nostrils flaring. He looked like a dragon, fire curling in his throat.

“Your turn.” He passed me the joint with a grin. I lifted it to my lips and sucked in carefully. And almost immediately started hacking and coughing as my throat and lungs burned.

“Bloody hell!” He laughed at me.

“Rookie.”

“Shut … up.” I coughed out. “God. This is supposed to be fun?”

“It’s like vodka. It takes a few hits to get there. Awful at first, but worth it.”

“Do you have as bad a hang over after?” I asked, carefully attempting another hit.

“Not if you only have one. Everything in moderation, Arthur.” He explained taking the joint back from me. I felt a little lightheaded. “These make me feel so calm, forget all the shit that happens in the world.”

“I thought music made you calm.”

“I can have more than one thing make me calm, clotpole. Like cherry flavored ice lollies and sunrises, the smell of rain on pavement.” He turned to look at me. “You.”

“Me?” I guffed, scooting closer to him on the couch. “I’d ‘ve thought that I riled you up.” I teased, poking his chest. He smacked my hand away.

“You’re incorrigible.” He complained but he was grinning when he held the joint up to my lips. I let him hold it while I took another hit. I thought about what a funny picture we must be. Were my eyes starting to turn bloodshot like his were? Did I too have a stupid grin on my face?

“And you are a pumpkin face!” I responded, feeling rather proud of my Merlinesque made up insult. He snorted, smoke coming out his nose in a comical way that had me laughing so hard I fell off the couch. “Oof!” That hurt. I rubbed my bum. Merlin was grinning away, amused at my pain. I reached up and tugged on his ankle until he too fell off the couch.

“Ow! Turnip head!” That set me off giggling again. He glared at me. “Maybe this was a bad idea after all. No more weed for you. You would have never survived the 60’s.” I stood up and he made to follow me so I pushed him back down.

“Stay.” I ordered and went into the kitchen to grab a bag of crisps. I was suddenly feeling hungry.  

“Are you getting food?” Merlin called from the other room. “Bring chocolate syrup!”

“How do you stay so thin with the way you eat?” I teased, thinking that maybe he’d start gaining some weight now that he had stopped smoking. I reached into the fridge to get it and was standing there wondering if I should get plates, chewing on a handful of crisps, when the door buzzed.

“Get the door!”

I wondered who it could be. We hardly got guests. Merlin and I both knew so few people. Perhaps the drummer had forgotten something last time he was over. What was his name? Tom? Yeah, that was right. Or maybe it was a solicitor. I shrugged and left the food on the counter top. Only one way to find out. I tugged the door open and there stood my father. That sobered me up quickly.

“Dad!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” I started coughing as I swallowed my crisps the wrong way and had to pound on my chest to get it down.

“Well, Arthur, as you haven’t responded to any of my resent phone calls, I believed this to be the best way to get your attention, short of cutting off your access to the family funds.” He greeted in a vaguely threatening way.

“Ah, yes. Sorry about that.” It was true that I’d been ignoring him now for close to six months now.

“You look rather disheveled, Son.” He squinted his eyes at me suspiciously. I hoped my eyes weren’t too red and blood shot.

“Listen, I’d invite you in, but the flat’s a mess right now, so…” I mumbled, looking down and realizing that my feet were bare. I hoped he couldn’t smell the pot on my clothes or floating in from the hallway. It was just my luck for my father to show up the first time I ever got high.

“I can’t stay anyway. I have a meeting in a half hour. But I’m here to invite you and your fellow house occupant to dinner this Friday evening to celebrate your sister’s return from America. She wishes to see you and we both wish to meet your new ... associate.” I nodded.

“Formal… or?” I wondered if Merlin owned a suit from this era.

“Casual is acceptable.” My father’s idea of casual was button downs and sweaters. The only difference was basically a lack of tie and jacket. Morgan might even choose to wear a dress still, if only to show off her new expenses. “So can I expect to see you then?”

“I’ll have to ask Merlin, but I’ll put it on the calendar.” I didn’t own a calendar.   

“Good. Then I’ll be off.” He turned to walk away, then paused and turned back. “Oh, and do give me some credit. I went to school. I know what weed smells like, Arthur.” He walked off, leaving me stunned in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info: 
> 
> Uther looks a bit like this version of Anthony: 
> 
> http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMTI3NDQ3NTMwNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMzY4NjEz._V1_SY714_SX485_AL_.jpg


	10. Chapter Nine

Merlin was wearing jeans. They didn’t have any holes in them at least, but they were still jeans. And he was wearing his red chucks too! I could already imagine the disdainful look that Father would give him. At least I’d managed to get him to put a collared shirt on under the new sweater I’d bought him. From the waist up he looked presentable. I’d always thought Merlin looked handsome in purple.

“Are you going to knock or just stare at me nervously?” Merlin asked with a raised eyebrow. Right, knock on the door, I could do that.

“Remember he doesn’t know about Camelot or magic or that I’m, you know…”

“Queer? Spending every night in bed with a man? A bottom?” He smirked as a glared at him.

“Yes that, and that last one is slander.”

“Pretty sure that even if you’re both you are still one.” He pondered. I wacked him on the back of the head.

“Be on your best behavior.” I warned.

“You seem to forget that I’ve dealt with Uther before. And back then he could have me executed. He’s your father not a deadly beast.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I forget there is a difference.” I grumbled and knocked on the door. It swung open and Morgan flung herself into my arms.

“Arthur!” She exclaimed happily and I picked her up off the ground for a moment. I had missed her. “And you must be Merlin.” She greeted after I’d released her.

“That’s me.” He offered and they shook hands.

“Arthur didn’t tell me you were so handsome.” She winked, flirting. I frowned at her and her smirk turned to me. Merlin laughed.

“I’m flattered but I have a boyfriend.” I blinked. Merlin was always braver than me.

“Oh, darn. All the good ones… as they say. Well, come on in. Father dearest has ordered in a lovely dinner.”

We walked inside and Merlin whistled.

“Nice place. I’m not surprised.”

“Daddy likes to show off.” Morgan said with a blasé wave of a hand.

I brushed a hand over Merlin’s lower back briefly before we entered the dining room and I’d have to keep my distance. He glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. Father was slicing a pot roast.

“Smells good.” I piped up and he looked up, a rare smile flooding over his features.

“Ah, good, you’re here.” He set the knife down and wiped his hand on a napkin before coming over to shake Merlin’s hand, and glare at his shoes. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, young man.”

“Pleasure.” Merlin responded politely, but with a wry grin. I could imagine what he was thinking, with Uther being so polite towards him.

“Well, let’s eat!” Morgan exclaimed with a little hand clap and we all sat: Father at the head of the table, myself on the other end, and Morgan and Merlin across from each other. Father served the meat and Morgan and I passed around the other dishes. I saw Merlin drop his fork and catch it midair without touching it. I kicked his ankle under the table, hoping no one noticed his eyes flash gold. After we’d tucked in, the mind numbing conversation began.

“So, Merlin, is it? What do you do for a living?” My father began the interrogation. Morgan gave me a look.

“Oh! Um, I’m a musician.” He answered, forcing a rather full mouthful a bit too quickly.

“Oh. How interesting. What kind of music?” He did a good job of pretending he was actually interested, but we all knew he wasn’t.

“Um, all kinds. Mostly rock. But I’ve been known to enjoy the occasional ballad and I have a certain affinity towards classical as well as big band.” Dad looked pleased.

“It’s important to appreciate the classics; there is so much trash on the radio these days. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, yes.” Merlin was doing everything to reign in his Cheshire grin, I knew it.

“Sooooo….Merlin.” Morgan trailed. Uh oh. I knew that voice. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment?” I repeat. _Uh oh!_ Now she was deliberately pushing the envelope. She knew very well he was, he’d just told her as such!

“I am, actually.” Merlin rolled his eyes, playing along. Morgan leaned forward on her hand, elbows on the table. Dad frowned at this.

“Oh! I love gossip. Tell me! Tell me everything!” She giggled. I sighed and pushed my food around on my plate.

“Well, he’s handsome and sweet.” Father started coughing and had to take a drink. “But he can be a bit of an entitled prat so I have to pull him back to Earth sometimes.” There was that grin. I rolled my eyes at my peas and carrots.

“It is true love?”

“I think so. Feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life for him. You could say he’s my Prince Charming.” Smug little bitch. I kicked him under the table again.

“Well that’s … that is to say. Congratulations. But perhaps we should stop prying into our guest’s personal life, Morgan dear.” Dad couldn’t have sounded more awkward. Both Morgan and Merlin were loving it. I could tell. I knew they’d get along this time around, all too well.

“Perhaps you’d like to hear about my time in America, Arthur?” Morgan turned on me.

“Of course I would,” I agreed, before someone asked me about my love life, “But I think I’m going to need dessert for fortification.”

Dessert was chocolate mousse. I grumbled through that too. It was some form of new torture, I was sure of it: My father quietly disapproving, Morgan gossiping about shopping and boys, Merlin licking his spoon and moaning at the taste in a way that shouldn’t be allowed in public. I wanted to tear my hair out.  When it was all over I grabbed Merlin’s wrist as quickly as I could and dragged him off, shouting that I was going to give him a house tour. I didn’t really care about giving him a tour. I tugged him off in the direction of my old room. I wasn’t surprised to see that it had already been turned into an office. How many offices did Father really need? I ignored this and kept walking. It did sting a little to know that he’d painted over the charcoal sketches I’d made on the walls growing up.

“Where are we going? Arthur?” Merlin asked, tugging back.

“I need air.” I opened the glass French doors that lead to the balcony and they hit the wall with a loud crash.

“Oh. Arthur, you beast.” He teased with a snort. I huffed in response. Typical Merlin. I let go of his wrist to lean forward on the railing and take in a deep breath. I felt Merlin’s hand on my lower back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him. Every time I open my mouth I disappoint him.”

“So what?”

“He’s my father, Merlin.”

“So?” His hand moved to my bicep and he tugged me around to face him. “Uther has never appreciated you as much as he should have, in this life or the last one. He may be your father but his opinion doesn’t matter. It wasn’t Uther who brought Camelot into a golden era, it was you and Gwen and your knights. And one day it will be your art work hanging in the National Gallery.”

“The National Gallery is for older works, not modern art. You should know that, old man. You were probably there when they were painted.”

“Oi!” He smacked my arm and I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s proud of you in his own way. He always has been. No one could look at you and see a disgrace. Least of all me.” He promised, leaning forward to steal a kiss. I cupped his chin and ran my thumb over his barely there stubble. Merlin always knew how to cheer me up.

“I _knew_ it!” Exclaimed a voice behind us and we both whipped around guiltily. It was Morgan. Fuck. She looked behind her and shut the door. “I knew that the boyfriend sounded a little too familiar.” Her smirk was one I was all too familiar with growing up. It was the: “I was right” smirk.

“Alright, you caught us. Now go away before dad comes looking.” I said, frowning.

“But of course. After all, all I want is for my dear brother to be happy.” She smiled all too innocently.

“What do you want?”

“Why, Arthur! I’m shocked that you would accuse me of such a nefarious thing! Okay, maybe one little thing.”

“Not above blackmail, as usual.”

“Oh, not from you, Arthur.” She set her sights on Merlin. He stiffened, I recognized his fight or flight position and squeezed his arm to remind him that there wasn’t any actual danger in her stare.

“What- Me? What can I do for you?” He asked. It was the voice he used to use for visiting nobles when he was trying to be overly polite to avoid getting hit or put in the stocks. I could practically feel the magic prickling my skin standing so close to him. I wanted to reassure him that she didn’t have magic or the hatred that her past self had, that she didn’t even remember.

“I want you to play a song for me silly!” She giggled and tugged him forward by his arm. “I know that we have an old guitar around here somewhere.”

“We do?” I asked, nonplussed.

“Yes, father bought it because he thought it to be worth some money. I’m sure he won’t mind as long as it doesn’t get broken.”

“Actually, it’s better for an instrument if it’s played every so often.” Merlin offered, still looking a bit bewildered over being dragged back down stairs.

“See! Now father will have to agree!” I sighed and looked to Merlin. He just shrugged unhelpfully. This was going to be a long evening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:
> 
> Morgan looks like this Katie (not evil like Morgana… but sly):
> 
> http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/33100000/-Photoshoot-katie-mcgrath-33170866-415-600.jpg


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Uther is a conservative a-hole.

Morgan gathered us all in the den and pulled Merlin down next to her on the couch, so I was forced to share the free one with Father, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Merlin strummed the strings and took a few moments to retune it.

“What will you play for us, Merlin?” Morgan asked. He hummed in thought.

“Well, not an original. If you want to hear those you’ll have to come to one of my shows.” He teased. Morgan clapped, excitedly. I rolled my eyes, now Morgan would be begging me to take her to his next gig. “Let’s see, how about something soft and slow. [Some easy listening](http://youtu.be/ZV6lntyGMgI).”

He smiled. It was a smart choice. I knew how my dad would react to loud music. Merlin began to play, and I stopped caring about my father, totally enraptured in his voice like I always was.

 _“The sun is filling up the room and I can hear you dreaming. Do you feel the way I do, right now?”_ I loved watching his fingers strum. His soft voice, the lyrics, they transported me to this morning when he’d been strumming his guitar lazily in bed, the morning sunlight warm on his bare skin.

_“I wish we would just give up, ‘cause the best part is falling. Call it anything but love, and I will make sure to keep my distance, say I love you when you’re not listening. And how long can we keep this up?”_

And suddenly my mind was a lot farther back that just this morning.

“ _Please don’t stand so close to me, I’m having trouble breathing. I’m afraid of what you’ll see, right now. I’d give you everything I am, all my broken heart beats. Until I know you’ll understand.”_

This was a song about unrequited love. But why would he be singing this? Merlin always sang music that meant something to him. I knew that he’d waited a long time for me, but I hadn’t even stopped to think that maybe he’d been waiting for me longer than the time after my death. Had he loved me back then? I’d always assumed that it was a case of “absence makes the heart grow fonder”, that over time while he was waiting he’d fallen in love with me. I knew that my past self had felt some strong emotions for him, perhaps if he was more open he would have used the word love. But those thoughts hadn’t been romantic, not really, no matter how much I projected. But Merlin wasn’t a new him, he was the same person now and he was then. Had he been pining for me then? Had he had to watch me wooing Gwen and play supportive friend, while secretly harboring his feelings? I didn’t know. He never talked about it.

 _“And I will make sure to keep my distance, say I love you when you’re not listening. And how long, can we keep this up?”_ All the times I’d dismissed him and shut him out or pushed him away just because it was the proper thing to do for my station, I couldn’t imagine.

 _“And I keep waiting for you to take me. You keep waiting to save what we have.”_ All the time waiting for me to return and not knowing if he’d get a chance this time around either, if I’d return his feelings or if he’d have to stand on the sidelines again.

_“So I’ll make sure to keep my distance, say I love you when you’re not listening. And how long, can we keep this up? Make sure to keep my distance, say I love you when you’re not listening. How long till we call this love?”_

 He finished by plucking some chords and I jolted back to the present by Morgan’s applause and standing ovation and Father’s more polite and reserved clap. I started clapping belatedly and Merlin stood for a quick bow, laughing.

“Thank you for the concert. Morgan can you show him where the guitar goes?” My father inquired and she nodded.

“Of course. Come on, Merlin.” She took his hand and tugged him out of the room.

“Arthur.” I blinked, startled by his serious, businessman voice. Was I in trouble?

“Yes, Father?” I asked, turning to him.

“I’m not happy with the idea of your continued stay with Mr. Emrys in that apartment. Perhaps you should move back in until we can find you a new place.”

“What? Why?”

“He seems nice enough, but I’m afraid that he will be a continued bad influence to you.” I stood up out of shock more than anything.

“Is this about the weed thing? Cause that was a onetime thing, I swear. I didn’t even like it so…”

“No this isn’t, not that. The other, his …” He struggled with his words. “His chosen… lifestyle.”

“What!? Because he’s gay?” I gaped. Merlin was technically Bi, but I figured that wouldn’t help the conversation.

“You know very well how I feel about homosexuality!” He stood too, getting in my face and whispering harshly, “And I don’t want you living with him, especially if this boyfriend is around. It’s not, appropriate and I don’t want it influencing you!” I wilted under his gaze a bit, the tongue lashing reminding me of being a little boy.

There was a polite cough from the doorway. We both whipped our heads around in that direction. Merlin and Morgan stood at the entryway to the room. The looked in Merlin’s eyes and the anger on Morgan’s face showed that they’d heard enough.

“Thank you for dinner.” Merlin said with barely veiled anger and hurt in his voice, before turning and rushing out of the house.

“Look at what you did!” Morgan scolded. “How could you be so cruel to a guest in our household? And you!” She turned on me, furry in her eyes. “Go after him! Fix this!” I jumped and jogged past her.

“We will talk about this later!” My father shouted after me, but I ignored him.

Merlin wasn’t at our car, he was walking down the street with his head down and his hands in his pockets. I ran up to him.

“Merlin?”  He didn’t respond. “Merlin! Come on! Just look at me.” I reached for his sleeve but he shook me off and vanished. He literally vanished. Not in a puff of smoke, just he was there one second and gone the next. Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:   
> Song: Distance by Christina Perri 
> 
> Shout out to user Airannath on here, who is not only really nice but recommended this song and inspired this scene.


	12. Chapter Eleven

I walked back to the car, hoping no one had seen the disappearing stunt Merlin had pulled, and drove back home as fast as I could. He was waiting for me, standing on the stoop by our front door and he was smoking. I frowned. Now I was the one who was angry.

“What the fuck do you think you are you doing, Merlin? I know my dad’s not the politest guy, but what about all your progress! Don’t do this. Don’t let him get to you.” I tried to reach for him again but the look he gave me froze my reach. His eyes were rubbed red.

“Did you know that there was a time when a man could be lynched for being gay? Hunted down and shot or hung or burned alive because they were considered an abomination of nature? Do you even remember what is was like back in Camelot?” He asked softly, looking down and twirling his cigarette between his fingers. I swallowed.

“I- I don’t know. It wasn’t really talked about.”

“Exactly. Don’t ask, don’t tell. No beat downs if you kept to yourself, kept to the back alleys, the whore houses. And that was just in Camelot, a safe haven. In Cenred’s kingdom you would either be killed or sold to the highest bidder. And I just had to sit there, bite my tongue and just **_wait_** for it to get better!

“Even now there is such hate. Why is it that in an age where homosexuals, bisexuals, transexuals, anykind of sexuals can have equal rights we still have to bite our tongues and say out of sight of those who think that we are wrong or sinners or some kind of freaks!? I know what it is to be a freak, Arthur! To wake up in the middle of the night screaming, to outlive everyone around you, to have ridden the backs of dragons, to be more power than anyone you know and have to pretend to be normal! Why should I have to hide who I love too!? It isn’t **FAIR!** ” He shouted, the pavement below us giving a slight tremor.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to live through all that, but it honestly doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, least of all my father.” I tried to placate him.

“No, but it matters to you. It always has. I was just stupid to think that this time would be any different. So why don’t you just go back there and make daddy Uther proud.” He snarled.

“I am not some clone of my father.”

“Maybe not, but you’re still living under his shadow. I’m not hiding who I am anymore to please a hateful Tyrant!”

“You take that back!” My father wasn’t perfect, but he was never a Tyrant, in this life nor the last; he had been a good king and a good father.

“Leave me alone.” He turned away from me, threw his dying cigarette and pulled a new one out of the case.

“No. Give me that.” I reached for the cigarette.

“I said _**leave**_ **!** ” He whirled around, eyes on fire, and I flew back several feet and landed on my ass. He retreated into the flat and slammed the door behind him.

I walked around the block for an hour or more until I realized that my anger had simmered to a low heat and that I couldn’t keep walking the same path all night or someone would call the police. I’d have to face the music eventually. I couldn’t let this build up between us or it would fester. We needed to talk this out, that much I knew. There had been enough silences between us the last time around. I wasn’t starting down that path again. I pulled out my keys and let myself in.

The[ music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyLsPdOEBww) was loud enough that I heard it before I was even up the stairs.

_It's not like you to say sorry. I was waiting on a different story. This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking._

I sighed, trying to ignore the lyrics. Surely heartbreak was a bit dramatic. This was just a … a spat, a lover’s tiff. Right? I was now all the more determined to have this out. I didn’t care if it meant yelling and screaming and magic everywhere. We could fix any broken windows after we fixed our relationship. With a deep breath I opened the door the music room, stealing myself for a fight. But I instantly deflated. He was asleep. How he’d fallen asleep with the music up that loud, I’d never know. But he looked so worn out. For the first time since I’d known him, I could see all of the years he’d lived in him, on his face, in the clenching of his fingers and in the crease in his forehead. I sighed and walked over to him, picking him up in my arms. He was still as light as a twig despite my best efforts to over feed him.

_And I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream: are we having fun yet?_

The song ended and then immediately started repeating over again. I was surprised by this. Why this song? I carried Merlin to his bedroom, pulled his clothes off and tucked him in. All the energy I’d built up in preparation for my side of the argument was swirling around inside me still itching to get out. I grabbed a canvas and, leaving the music on, began to paint.

_Never made it as a wise man. I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing. Tired of living like a blind man. I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling._

Now I understood, why this song. It was about all the dark places he had in him, about the hard times he’d fallen on. The things that made up his hurt and anger, the things that made him timid and dangerous. I painted him in this new light. I painted the darker side of him, the side I’d seen come out tonight.

_And this is how you remind me, this is how you remind me, of what I really am. This is how you remind me. Of what I really am._

And when I was done I turned the song off, those lyrics ringing in my head. I’d remind him. I just couldn’t be so selfish as to think it would happen as quickly as I’d hoped. Good thing I was in for the long haul. If there was one thing that had carried over from my previous incarnation it was my stubborn bull-headish determination.

“ **Arthur!** ” His scream came as I was washing my paint brush. I looked at the clock. It was almost 5 am. It was about the right time for him to be having a nightmare. I paused to listen, if it was really bad I’d go to him. If not, maybe it would be better if I slept in my own room tonight, let him simmer down a bit. “Arthur?” He asked quietly, his voice much closer. I turned and he was standing in the doorway, white as a ghost in a half zipped hoodie and his boxers.

“You okay, babe?” I asked, softly.

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want me there.”

“I always want you there. Have you gotten any sleep at all?” He walked over and I reached out to him. He came to stand next to me and I wrapped my arms around him, he was shaking slightly and I kissed his temple.

“No. I’ve been up thinking, thinking and painting.” I buried my face in his shoulder and he rubbed a hand over my arm; the shaking stopped.

“It’s a beautiful painting.”

“You’re my favorite subject.” We stood in silence for a few minutes. “I’m going to get a job.”

“You are? Why?” He asked, nonplussed.

“Because that way I’ll have an income so I won’t have to dip into my inheritance if my dad disowns me when I tell him that I’m gay.” He chuckled and turned towards me, lifting my face out of his neck.

“Arthur, you don’t have to do anything right now. I wasn’t being fair to you tonight. It has to be hard to have some with certain expectations for you like that, and to know that you are going in almost the exact opposite direction. I didn’t take that in to account and I should have. You tell him when you are ready, not because I threw a tantrum.”

“I’m ready. No more lies, Merlin. Not from you or from me. So I’ll start looking for work. Maybe I can be an illustrator or work more commercially. I don’t know, but I’ll start looking. Fucking hell, I’ll work in a sandwich shop if I have to.” He made a face. “You are more important, too important, for me to keep lying about who I am if it threatens to keep us apart.”

“Arthur.” He protested still but I silenced him with a fingertip to his lower lip.

“I spent too long in my last life time denying our friendship, I’m not going to spend this one denying our relationship. Okay?”

“But- ”

“ _Okay_?” I wouldn’t let him complain, staring him down until he wilted. He rolled his eyes and lolled his head to the side.

“Fine, but come back to bed with me. I plan on sleeping till noon.”

“I think, Merlin, that might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info:
> 
> Song: "How You Remind Me" by: Nickelback  
> Shout out: Once again this song was recomended by user "Airannath" on here. So thank you dear!


	13. Chapter Twelve

I felt much more at ease in this club than I had been the first time I’d been here. At least I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans this time. It helped that we’d gotten here early to help Merlin and Tom set up, Morgan and I. She had been extremely excited about the whole thing, kept saying “Your album premiere, Mer! Everyone’s going to want a piece of you!” It frightened me how quickly those two had become chummy.

I patted my bag for the hundredth time to make sure that the EP copies were safely tucked away and ready to be sold. I’d had to convince him that he had to ask for some money for them. He’d wanted to give them away. I’d been thinking about finance a lot lately (wouldn’t father be proud). I still hadn’t told dad yet, but I’d have to eventually. I’d picked up a part time job working as a guide at a local museum which would help, but what I hadn’t even yet told Merlin was that I’d been contacted by a collector about exhibiting my work as part of a collection she was creating entitled “Chivalry”. She’d visited my former university and a previous teacher had recommended my work. She’d contacted me about it and I could show for free as long as she got ten percent from any sales I made, and man was I hoping for some sales. Not only would it validate my work as something worth actually hanging on a wall but I needed to become monetarily stable in my preferred career. God, I guess I was listening when Dad lectured me.  

Then there was the other thing I’d been meaning to bring up. I was going to approach him about renting out the other flats in the building. He was the property owner for the whole darned thing and we were only living in one of them (the best one). I knew what he’d say: “I don’t need the money”. And maybe he didn’t, but he could do with some company besides me, we both could. Neighbors would be nice, would make it feel like settling down properly or something. Maybe they’d ask us to borrow sugar. Did we own sugar? Note to self: buy some sugar.

“I’ve just got a couple more for your guys.” I was pulled out of my thoughts by Merlin’s voice at the microphone. “This next one’s a cover and I’m dedicating it to my boyfriend. He’s the handsome bloke over there,” He pointed at me, “with the gold hair and all the copies of my Album for you guys to pick up after the show. Say hi, Arthur.” I waved and he grinned at me. “Anyway, you should recognize this. It’s called “[A Thousand Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIj07LL57RA&index=9&list=PLlA1m7rBgxldIdHpD9iaaqtE-LBwk7exP)”.

_“Heart beats fast, colors and promises. How to be brave? How can I love when I'm afraid to fall? But watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow.”_

His voice really was beautiful. Even now I was blown away by it. I probably had a stupid grin on my face. I knew this song, and, really, could there be a more appropriate song?

_“One step closer. I have died every day waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you, for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more.”_

“A thousand years?” Morgan commented next to me. “That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it? Who knew you two were so sickeningly romantic?” I rolled my eyes.

“Morgan, do you mind?” I complained. “I’m trying to listening to my boyfriend sing a song that he’s dedicated to me.”

_“Time stands still, beauty in all she is. I will be brave. I will not let anything take away what's standing in front of me. Every breath, every hour has come to this. One step closer.”_

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore Morgan’s presence next to me, remembering… just…Merlin and me, running around Camelot and getting into trouble. A lifetime of memories. Soon to be two life times. I hoped we’d have more time together this time around.

_“I have died every day waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more. And all along I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me. I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more.”_

“Arthur?” Morgan inquired.

“Yes?” I peeked at her out of the corner of my eye.

“Teasing aside, you seem happy.”

_“One step closer. One step closer.”_

“I feel…” I sighed trying to figure out how to explain it. “Whole? Yeah. I feel whole. Like all my pieces are finally in place.” She smiled and hugged me from the side. I let her kiss my cheek and sway with me for a bit, while I gave her a one-armed squeeze. As far as sisters go, I figured, I could do a lot worse. At least this one wasn’t out to kill me.

_“I have died every day waiting for you. Darling don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more. And all along I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me. I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more.”_

I clapped with the rest of the crowd when the song finished. He blew me a kiss and I winked at him before he started to introduce the next song. While he was doing that I found myself distracted by some long and shaggy dark brown hair. Not but a few feet away from me stood a man that was so familiar I almost didn’t notice him. If it wasn’t for the way he threw his whole body into every movement he made I might not have noticed him at all. But there, right there, was Gwaine. It was him without a doubt. I considered going up to him, but decided to wait.

Maybe the knights would start coming back now, too. Maybe Camelot really was at its “Greatest Need” and there was some great destiny waiting for us all. I wasn’t too bothered. Why rush to it? Maybe I’d say hello after the show ended. I was going to take my time enjoying my life this time around instead of rushing into battle and dying nobly. There wasn’t a kingdom to defend, there was just a normal life to live, and that was all that I needed.

_“I know you’re broken down by anger and by sadness. You feel I left you in a world of full of madness. Wish I could talk to you if only for a minute, make you understand the reasons why I did it. I wanna tell you that you’re all that ever matter. Want you to know that for eternity I’m shattered. I tried so hard just to protect you but I failed to and in a prison of abandonment I’ve jailed you.”_

Merlin was singing the new extended version of “[Red Regret](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euuxPokAeIA&index=5&list=PLlA1m7rBgxldIdHpD9iaaqtE-LBwk7exP)” that he’d written. He’d been adding lyrics to it to expand on our story, this time including rebuttals and comments from my point of view. He hadn’t been the only one to feel guilty about what happened. I’d grown up knowing I’d left him all alone and that feeling only got worse once I found out how long he’d lived. I’d explained how I felt about it and next thing I knew he was nearly doubling the length of his song with new lyrics.

_“I never planned that I would leave you there alone, I was sure that I would see you when I made it back home. And all the times I swore that it would be okay, now I’m nothing but a liar and you’re thrown into the fray. This bedtime story end with misery ever after. The pages are torn and there’s no final chapter. I didn’t have a choice. I did what I had to do. I made a sacrifice but forced a bigger sacrifice on you. I know you’ve lived a nightmare. I caused you so much pain. But baby please don’t do what I did. I don’t want you to waste your life in vain.”_

I liked this version better. It was a lot fairer to Merlin. He wasn’t the only who fucked up and I wasn’t the only who suffered because of it.

_“You’re not the only one who needed me, I thought you understood. You were the one I needed and you left me as I always feared you would. Would I change it if I could? It doesn’t matter how petals scatter now. Every nightmare just discloses, it’s your blood that’s red like roses. And no matter what I do, nothing ever takes the place of you.”_

I tried to get the image of blood out of my mind and replace it with the red of his guitar flashing as he punched through a guitar solo.

_“Red like roses, fills my head with dreams and finds me always closer to the emptiness and sadness that has come to take the place of you!”_

As he hit the last note and threw a fist in the air, he closed his eyes. A half a second later I knew why. He’d been hiding the gold flash in his eyes as his magic caused the banner to fall. Behind him, cloaking the whole stage, was the large red and gold flag from my throne room. The lights hit the Pendragon ring he still wore on his finger and I couldn’t help but laugh. Merlin always did have a flare for the dramatic.

-The End-

* * *

 

Presenting the first full length album of Merlin Emrys:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info: 
> 
> Full list of songs on EP:
> 
> Paramore: Careful (A Little More)   
> The Academy is: Everything We Had (No Longer There)   
> Mika: Heroes (Blood On Me)   
> This Providence: Keeping On Without You (Without You)  
> Jeff Williams: Red Like Roses Part II (Red Regret)   
> Angels and Airwaves: Everything’s Magic (Magic) 
> 
> You can listen to the full soundtrack from this fic at this Youtube playlist link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlA1m7rBgxldIdHpD9iaaqtE-LBwk7exP
> 
> Thanks for reading and all the support! xoxo


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